and now something Kim wrote about today:

Summer Solstice
(surprisingly not sunny here in sunny San Diego)
Summer Love to all!

I was craving EGGS so I walked with Sophie, whom Gus and I now call "snookems," down to Newport St., the main drag. in Ocean Beach. I stopped at the well kept and always busy family style restaurant on the corner. Two cheerful semi-toothless old men stood outside the restaurant smoking their cigs. The younger of the two called out, "Is that a yorkie?" "No, a schnuazer," I said. I smiled at him and then went inside to order my EGGS.

I stepped outside to find the two older guys still smoking and "shooting the shit." I sauntered over for some classic Ocean Beach socializing. Chit chat, chit chat, where you from? When I replied, Michigan, the guy who had taken the initial interest in Sophie, asked what city. "Ann Arbor," I said. "Oh," he said. It was the kind of "oh" that needs to have an "I see" at the end of it. There are many different types of "oh's" but this "oh" told me he had respect for Ann Arbor, he may have even been there for a football game once or twice, but he was actually a blue-collar Detroiter. So I proudly said, "I am actually from Wyandotte." He looked at me with surprise. "My god, I went to Roosevelt High, class of 1953." We spoke a little about Wyandotte before we went back to our morning routines. I had to go home and eat my EGGS before class. (By the way, I am purposefully capitalizing EGGS because I know Gus hates them and I love to tease him any chance I can.)

What are the odds of a meeting someone who went to Wyandotte Roosevelt High School. I mean we are thousands of miles across the United States here. It seems they are much greater than statistics estimate. This to me, is an example of energy dynamics, or the dance of the cosmos, of how energy follows intention, or thought.

What made this encounter especially poignant was that, as a tribute to father's day, Gus and I were re-hashing family history only the day before. I told him about the seventy five years of vibrant history that my family has had at one high school. My father has even taught there for the last thirty years. I do not think I would be alive if it wasn't for that old Edwardian looking high school. You see, my mother's younger sister B.J.(then a major seventies hippie), set my parent's up. My father was her math teacher. I think they probably also talked about music like, Alice Cooper. I am not sure if Roosevelt's walls have ever spoken to me, but they are beginning to now. Maybe it is a millenium thing. Or the fact that my dad is about to retire. Or perhaps it is that my sweet Wyandotte grandparents are beginning to move into the spirit world. Who is left to hear their voices? I will try.

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